


Right On Time

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Movie Night, Team Bonding, clogged toilet, everyone loves captain, group viewing, iwaizumi is very domestic, kindaichi regrets all his life decision, kyoutani needs to get his shit together, matching aprons, oikawa tries so hard to have a nice night, some people love captain more than others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: Iwaizumi wonders, truly wonders, how it all came to this. How he finds himself armed with a dirty plunger, sleeves rolled up, apron loose, surrounded by his screaming teammates and ankle deep water.He decides, like he always does, that it must be Oikawa Tooru’s fault.





	Right On Time

Oikawa Tooru is ecstatic. There is an extra spring in his step all week. Classmates speculate he must have found a new girlfriend while others wonder if he got accepted to his top university.

Iwaizumi knows why Oikawa Tooru is ecstatic. His favorite TV Show, _Space Journey_ , is premiering a special reunion episode for the first time in a decade this Friday night at 8:30pm. Oikawa Tooru had been following the news for months. He had seen all the teaser trailers, the promo videos and had steered clear of any and all leaks diligently.

This, of course, also meant Iwaizumi had seen all of these same things too, either through excited text bursts or screens being physically shoved into his face. Iwaizumi wouldn’t consider himself a big fan of the show, but he enjoyed it casually and _had_ seen every episode at least once thanks to his decision to befriend (and fall in love with) the ever obsessive Oikawa Tooru.

In the week leading up to the premiere, Oikawa is like an active volcano awaiting eruption. Iwaizumi keeps track of the seismic activity, of every quake that rolls off his shoulders and every screech he emits. It is no surprise, then, when Oikawa decides to make an event of the viewing, announcing to their teammates in the locker room that he is inviting them all to the historical screening at his house, and, when there is little excitement given to his announcement, adds that Iwaizumi will be baking, to a cacophony of cheers.

Iwaizumi is this close to drop kicking the team captain right there, and would have too, if the locker room wasn’t all hard tiled floor and sharp edges. He settles for twisting his arm behind his back until Oikawa’s voice scratches into the desperate screeching territory of mercy.

It’s not that he wasn’t planning to bake for Oikawa and him when the screening was just the two of them. It’s that, he has a certain image to uphold on the team, and baking for 9 people is a lot more work than just two. He’s going to need to buy more shit now, and Oikawa’s oven can get a little finicky when put under duress.

But, when Oikawa’s eyes light up on the walk home as he talks about this coming Friday, about introducing their teammates to his favorite show in the whole wide world, and how he’s just _so excited_ , Iwaizumi forgives him for it. For all of it. For everything. And he may or may not spend the evening digging through Pinterest for space themed cookie inspiration, and penciling in a trip to the grocery store for Thursday evening.

The rumbling of Mt. Oikawa does not wane as the days go back, in fact it only grows, tectonic plates shifting with each restless leg jitter, each tongue tripping rush of excitement and each happy squeal. By the time Friday comes along, Iwaizumi fears Oikawa will have already spent himself empty.

He is the first to arrive at Oikawa’s home, hours early, separating from the teen briefly on the way home only to gather his baking supplies and then trek across the street to his best friend’s house. When he arrives he finds he has nothing to fear, Oikawa is a flurry of activity around him. He fluffs and re-fluffs the living room cushions, brings down at least a dozen folded blankets to situate around and even more pillows from his bedroom. He checks his television is on the right channel about five times, despite the fact the show won’t be airing for another couple hours.

Iwaizumi sighs into his hand, using it to cover up his instinctive smile.

Oikawa then procures a pair of matching aprons, frilly and unnecessary. One a light blue, a close shade to Seijoh’s team colors, and the other a garish pink.

“No,” Iwaizumi says.

But it doesn’t matter what he says, nor does it matter when he at least asks for the blue one, because Oikawa is already tying that one on himself and offering to help Iwaizumi put on the pink one. Iwaizumi brandishes his rolling pin from his sack, in warning, and Oikawa lets out a playful screech as he dashes away, gangly limbs almost slipping on a stray blanket and almost smashing his head on the coffee table edge. Almost. It’s a close call that Oikawa is oblivious to but Iwaizumi can all too easily see.

He lets out a frustrated sigh once Oikawa has fled into the other room, slipping the rolling pin back into his sack. He nudges the blanket out of the way and puts the pink apron over his head--he’d forgotten his own back at home anyway--and heads for the kitchen.

Oikawa pokes his head in the kitchen to offer a string of complements but Iwaizumi kicks him out, brandishing his rubber spatula as a weapon. Last time Oikawa had helped him bake everything had come out burnt and Iwaizumi didn’t want to mess it up today of all days so there was no way he was letting the captain near any of work. He didn’t even have the right to where an apron with his lack of skill, but Oikawa was most likely using it as a fashion item, and he was pulling it off so Iwaizumi doesn’t bother telling him to take it off. Instead, he announces a fortified anti-Oikawa barrier marked by the doorway to the kitchen, a callback to some of the dumb little games they used to play as kids.

Oikawa laughs giddily at the throwback. He sits obediently on the other side of the doorway, crossed legged on the floor offering unhelpful commentary where he can. Iwaizumi decides not to expend the energy to shut him up and keeps himself focused on the task at hand.

They spend a long time like that, just the two of them. Once Iwaizumi finishes pouring in the second batch of batter into circle molds he sits down beside Oikawa on the floor, on his respective side of the barrier. He has to wait for the first batch to finish in the oven before he can place the second. Oikawa keeps him occupied by offering his predictions for the episode, ranging from absolutely ridiculous to perhaps plausible. Iwaizumi even offers his own and it’s nice.

 _It’s really nice,_ Iwaizumi thinks.

The doorbell rings.

It’s still a bit more than an hour before the episode is to air. Iwaizumi imagines it must be Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who’d warned they’d show up horrifically early to bother them. Oikawa stands up to get the door and Iwaizumi dutifully follows him--after a quick glance at the oven tells him he still has a good three minutes to go.

Kindaichi is at the door.

This shouldn’t be that surprising, Oikawa _had_ invited everyone on the team but there’s something odd about seeing just Kindaichi, alone, on the doorstep. Oikawa lets him in eagerly and Iwaizumi gives him a two finger wave.

Kindaichi is red, stuttering out a response while trying to keep his eyes on anything but his senpais.

It takes Iwaizumi a second to figure out why--it’s the aprons. Which, he thinks, is a bit silly, cause sure they’re a bit frilly but it’s just an apron. He’d laugh at the reaction if it was anyone but Kindaichi, but his kohai has a sensitive soul and Iwaizumi takes a lot of care in building up the first years. No need to put this year’s good effort to waste. Instead he settles for ruffling his hair amicably, enjoying how the younger teen’s face only seems to blossom redder.

Kindaichi sits himself down in the middle of the couch, fingers digging into his knees. The oven beeps and Iwaizumi disappears back into the kitchen. Oikawa follows after to get some water for their first guest.

Kindaichi rapidly realizes he is the first on here, alone, and immediately wishes he had waited around the corner another ten minutes before ringing the bell. He quickly takes out his phone, texting furiously.

 **Kindaichi:** kunimi when are you getting to captain’s party

 **Kindaichi:** kunimi im the only one here please hurry

 **Kunimi:** im asleep

 **Kindaichi:** KUNIMI PLEASE

 **Kunimi:** i’ll get there eventually

 **Kindaichi:** KUNIMI

 **Kunimi:** gnight

Fortunately, the doorbell rings again after that and Oikawa flutters out to go answer it. This time it _is_ Matsukawa and Hanamaki, each brandishing a two liter soda bottle in their hands. Kindaichi feels a sigh of relief leave him at the sight of more guests.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa, after handing off their offerings to Oikawa, plop themselves down on the couch on either side of Kindaichi, effectively caging them.

“Kindaichi, my boy, what brings you here?” Matsukawa asks.

Kindaichi stutters, “I was, I was invited? We were..We were all invited?”

Hanamaki laughs and pats the boys knee goodnaturedly. Then he places a finger on his lips, and gives a not so subtle wink. Kindaichi tries to squirm further into the couch as Hanamaki grabs the remote and switches the channel.

A pro-wrestling match takes up the screen now.

“Did you just change the channel!?” Oikawa shouts from the kitchen.

“Of course not!” Hanamaki replies back just as loudly, giving Kindaichi another obvious wink.

Kindaichi swallows. Matsukawa is having a hard time stifling his laughter.

“I swear to god if you make us miss even a _second_ of--,” Oikawa starts, again, voice carrying a shrill like quality as it hits them from the other room.

“There’s still an hour til the premiere space boy,” Hanamaki reminds.

“56 minutes!” Oikawa counters, “And counting!”

“Oh shit, Kindaichi watch this move, he’s insane,” Matsukawa comments and Kindaichi startles at the fact Matsukawa has an arm around his shoulder, nudging him to lean forward and watch the wrestling match. Kindaichi tries to follow it, but it’s embarrassing, how the men on screen are sweaty and half naked and screaming at each other. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are _very_ into it and keep shaking Kindaichi at key moments. Which is, apparently, every moment.

Kindaichi tries to text Kunimi again discreetly but only succeeds in losing his phone to the couch cushions.

“Oikawa, get your anxious ass out off this kitchen before you break something!” Iwaizumi’s disembodied voice orders.

“I’m not gonna break anything!” Oikawa shouts right back.

“Alright get out before I break _you_ then,” Iwaizumi snaps back, literally shoving Oikawa’s fidgeting form back into the living room.

“Hey, can you guys not talk about your sex life so openly? There’s a child present,” Hanamaki snaps, smoothing down Kindaichi’s hair apologetically. Kindaichi wants to die at this point, for not the first time this night.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out at the lot of them, pulling down his left lower eyelid for good measure.

“Are you guys, are you guys seriously wearing matching aprons right now?” Matsukawa comments, and Hanamaki ends up almost spraying his soda all over himself (and Kindaichi) when he realizes this.

Oikawa sends them a wink with a little kick up, “Aren’t we delicious?” he coos, wrapping an arm around Iwaizumi’s neck to pull him closer, though the motion is more akin to a headlock than anything very endearing. Iwaizumi sends him a fierce glare.

“Nauseating,” Hanamaki corrects.

“Iwaizumi kinda pulls it off,” Matsukawa offers.

Iwaizumi gives him a finger gun and a wink from his head prison, “Thanks, man.”

“Of course he pulls it off, I picked it out just for him!” Oikawa butts in.

“You look like Alice and Wonderland after too many shrooms, Oikawa,” Hanamaki points out, receiving a serious nod from his partner in crime. Even Iwaizumi fails to stifle his laughter at that.

Oikawa bristles, releasing Iwaizumi to look more imposing on the group, “Watch it, before I un-invite you all!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, “What do you think Kindaichi?” he asks, perhaps a bit teasingly, bringing the attention back to the youngest amongst them.

Kindaich squawks at the sudden limelight, having been focused trying to dig up his phone from the crack in the cushions. He trips over his words as he rushes to speak, “Iwaizumi-senpai always looks good!”

Iwaizumi absolutely grins at this and Oikawa does his best not to wear the devastation he so blatantly feels, “And, Kin-chan? What about me? Your dearest captain?”

Kindaichi blinks, swallowing nervously, “Oikawa-senpai is....Oikawa-senpai is Oikawa-senpai!”

The room erupts into laughter, Hanamaki and Matsukawa patting Kindaichi’s back in approval, forcefully enough that the poor teen doubles over. Oikawa looks like he’s ready to die, right there in his living room, and Iwaizumi looks happy enough to help him dig the grave.

Luckily, the doorbell rings again and Oikawa is granted a way out from the mortal blow, hurrying to his door. Iwaizumi turns to the couch denizens after wiping a stray tear from his eye, “Hey,” he starts, grabbing back their attention, “Keep Oikawa out of the kitchen for me will ya? I’m decorating the cookies and I want them to be a surprise.”

“Whiiiiiiipped,” Hanamaki replies, dragging out the sound in his best monotone. But Matsukawa flashes him a thumbs up and Iwaizumi is content with that, stepping back into the kitchen.

“We, have arrived!” Watari announces, stepping into the living room and holding his arms out wide.

“We?” Matsukawa comments.

Watari drops his arms, turning around before heaving a frustrated sigh, “Oh my god, guys stop fighting on the doorstep and get in already!”

Yahaba and Kyoutani appear a few seconds later, the former with a plastered on smile and the latter grumbling under his breath. Yahaba sits down on a cushion on the floor, leaning his back against Matsukawa’s legs. Kyoutani sits near him, but not necessary _beside_ him, so Watari squishes himself between the two with a roll of his eyes.

“The gang’s all here,” Hanamaki announces, “Well, almost,” he adds, looking expectantly at Kindaichi. Matsukawa mirrors him, and soon everyone in the room has their eyes on their youngest team member present.

Kindaichi reddens, “Kunimi is on his way!” he squeaks out, because maybe if he says it it’ll actually come true.

“Cool,” Matsukawa nods, squeezing the younger’s shoulder.

Oikawa claps his hands together, “Alright team, we’re about fifteen minutes shy of this momentous event. Is everyone comfortable? Anybody need any drinks?” he shifts a little, voice raising to reach the only teenager not in the living room, “Iwa-chan! Are your cookies done yet?”

“No!” Iwaizumi shouts back, “Stay out of here!”

Oikawa pouts, “But I need to give the second years drinks! You’re preventing me from being a good senpai, Iwa-chan!”

“I can get them,” Yahaba offers with a smile reeking of acid as he stands up and leaves. Oikawa coos after his protege, giving his thanks.

Kyoutani glowers harder, standing up himself with enough force that Watari rears back beside him, knocking his head against Kindaichi’s knees. They both groan, but Kyoutani has no time for that.

“Where’s the fucking bathroom?” he demands.

Oikawa’s smile drops from his face, “Outside, if you’re gonna talk like an animal.”

Kyoutani sneers.

“Play nice!” Iwaizumi calls from the kitchen, as if he _knows_ , “It’s down the hall on the left, Kyoutani.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa try to hide their snickers. Kyoutani stomps off in the direction Iwaizumi alluded to and Oikawa is left seething slightly in the room. Watari cranes his neck to looks past him at the TV, “What are we watching?”

“ _Space Journey_ ,” Oikawa says.

“Wrestlemania,” Matsukawa replies at the same time, raising the volume in tandem.

Oikawa grits his teeth, “Matsun! You better change that channel back or I swear!”

“We still got like ten minutes, Oikawa,” Hanamaki assures.

But Oikawa’s eye is twitching, forehead vein popping, and Kindaichi worries his senpais may have really done it this time. But it’s a false eruption, because instead Oikawa wilts, a whine building in his throat as he makes his way to the kitchen, “Iwa-chaaaaaaan!”

Iwaizumi appears at the doorway, brandishing an icing dispenser in his hand like a knife, “You’re not allowed in here.”

Oikawa wilts further, brown eyes narrowing in a certain expression Iwaizumi knows well, and is the only who knows well. It’s a look Oikawa holds back until their alone, until he’s at his very wits end, until he can’t take it anymore and he _needs help_.

Iwaizumi straightens up, craning his neck to look out at the living room, “Hey,” he says, roughly, making the couch denizens, and Watari below them look over, “Put the channel back on. You can watch wrestling when the episode is over.”

Hanamaki lets out a dramatic sigh, but obediently does as he’s told, groaning as all that’s playing on the correct channel is some commercial for KFC. He’s missing killer moves and styles for this.

Oikawa squeezes Iwaizumi’s shirt sleeve, flashing a small but grateful smile. Iwaizumi waves it off, lifting his own hand to squeeze the other man’s shoulder in apology. He hadn’t realized how stressed Oikawa had gotten about this whole event, but in hindsight it should have been obvious. He must have been too focused on the cookies.

The cookies.

He ducks back into the kitchen, ignoring Oikawa’s whine about wanting to come in. Yahaba looks up from where he is spreading icing on the cookies, following the example Iwaizumi had shown him.

Iwaizumi nods at him, picks up the green color icing to work on the other cookie shape. Yahaba smiles as he works, soft and genuine, “This is really sweet of you, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

Iwaizumi grunts, keeping his head down as he finishes filling in the alien face of the cookie before moving on to the next baked good.

Yahaba giggles a little as he puts some last minute touches to the UFO cookie he’s working on, “Oikawa-senpai is lucky to have you at his side.”

“Your phone’s buzzing,” Iwaizumi says, partly to get away from this awkward conversation but also because it’s the truth. Yahaba grabs his phone, rolling his eyes as he stares at his notifications.

 **Kyoutani:** YAHABA

 **Kyoutani:** YAHABA

 **Kyoutani:** PIck up YOUR FUCKING PHONE YAHABA

He slides his phone open as he pulls back from Iwaizumi’s baking setup, leaning up against the counter instead. He pulls up his texting app and starts typing.

 **Yahaba:** sorry to keep you waiting sweetheart

 **Kyoutani:** UGH

 **Kyoutani:** I FUCKING

 **Kyoutani:** look im sorry about before just

 **Kyoutani:** can you come to the bathroom

 **Yahaba:** why?

 **Kyoutani:** emergency

Yahaba raises his brow, but he decides to drop the petty act since Kyoutani has apologized--which in it of itself is alarming enough. Kyoutani doesn’t give in this easily. Something must really be up. Yahaba excuses himself from the kitchen, wandering the Oikawa family hall, trying to remember where the bathroom exactly was from the last time he was here, for Oikawa’s Mandatory Monthly Protege Check-In Sleepovers, all incredibly necessary for grooming the next Seijoh captain---or so he insists.

“KyouKen?” Yahaba calls softly at the door he thinks is right.

He here’s movement on the other side, “Yahaba?”

“Well? What’s wrong?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then in the quietest voice he’d ever heard come out of Kyoutani’s mouth, he rushes out,“Icloggedthetoilet.”

“You what?” Yahaba asks, eyes squinting as if that will boost his hearing.

“I clogged the damn toilet, Yahaba! Ok!” Kyoutani growls.

“What? How?”

“What do you mean how? You want me to describe the massive dump I just took?”

Yahaba gags, taking a second to pinch the bridge of his nose before replying, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I can’t find a plunger. There isn’t a plunger in this fucking bathroom can you go find me one?”

Yahaba grimaces, “Have you tried flushing?”

“Of course I tried that!”

“Well did you try it again?”

There’s silence behind the door, and Yahaba listens as the toilet is flushed again. It sounds....wrong, not a _fushow_ sound but more of a choked up _fushonk_.

“Shit,” Kyoutani curses from the other side, and suddenly the door is open and Kyoutani is scurrying out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him, “Shit.”

“What?”

“No one can go in there,” Kyoutani practically snarls, white faced and wide eyed.

And then Yahaba catches sight of the water trying to seep out of the crack at the bottom of the door. His eyes widen, “Holy shit, we need to tell Oikawa-senpai.”

“We do _not_.”

Yahaba stares at Kyoutani a moment, in disbelief, before tearing away and down the hall. Kyoutani shouts, racing after him as they barrel into the living room.

“Oikawa!” Yahaba screeches, as Kyoutani throws him to the ground, they roll, knocking the coffee table over and successfully grabbing everyone’s attention, “Kyoutani--mffg, Stop! Kyoutani get off! Oikawa!” he pries the hand covering his mouth, writhing on the floor as Kyoutani tries to wrestle him into submission, “Kyoutani ruined your bathroom!”

Kyoutani lets out another embarrassed snarl, face beet red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He wraps his arm around Yahaba’s neck to keep him from talking any further.

“Got him in a headlock!” Matsukawa commentates, using his own phone as a makeshift microphone.

“Is this the end of the Yahaba’s road? Will the Mad Dog take his title?” Hanamaki adds, leaning over Kindaichi to speak into Matsukawa’s faux microphone.

“He what?” Oikawa roars, confused but swept up in the chaos of the moment. He stomps around the fighting second years to investigate the claim himself.

“The crowd is going wild!” Hanamaki announces, discreetly switching the channel back to wrestling just as Yahaba flips the pair over, trying to immobilize him with an arm behind his back. Matsukawa nudges Watari’s back with his leg, and the second year starts letting out dramatic _oohs_ and _awws_ obediently.

But the magic of it all breaks when Oikawa’s screech echoes around the house and everyone falls into a sudden silence. Iwaizumi bursts out of the kitchen, icing on his fingers, “What’s wrong?”

Kyoutani darts away, Yahaba at his heels. Watari can’t help following after them, doing his best to stifle his giggle. Kindaichi decides to use this moment to escape his senpais as well, rushing to investigate with the rest of the pack. Iwaizumi looks over at his fellow third years questioningly, but the pair only offer identical shrugs.

And then Oikawa’s voice tears through the home again, “IWA-CHAN PLEASE HELP ME!”

Iwaizumi sighs, ducks into the kitchen to wipe his hands off with a towel before venturing out into the hall where the majority of his teammates have rushed off to. He finds the gaggle swarming at the end of the hall, too fearful of taking any further steps.

With good reason too.

Mt. Oikawa is erupting, but not in the way Iwaizumi had predicted he would--in excitement and happiness over his favorite television show. No, he is erupting with shocked fury, limbs shaking with the unspent energy as his head turns a boiling red.

There is water all over Oikawa’s pant legs soaking them a dark color and pooling around his socked feet. His hand is still clenched on the doorknob holding it closed, so hard his whole arm is trembling. Oikawa turns his head toward his best friend and his expression is broken.

Iwaizumi steps forward, expression hardened.

“Stop gawking back there and be useful! Kindaichi, upstairs theres another bathroom. Go in there and grab the plunger thats under the sink and bring it to me. Watari and Kyoutani if you go down the way you came theres a closet with a mop and bucket. Grab it. Yahaba, come collect Oikawa.”

There is a flurry of movement as the boys race off to their respective duties obediently. Except Oikawa, who glares at Iwaizumi, “I do _not_ need to be ‘collected’”

“You need to calm down,” Iwaizumi replies.

“Oh, sorry I’m not calm, when my toilet is gushing water the night my parents aren’t home. I’m sure they’re going to be just ecstatic about this!”

Yahaba puts a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, squeezing it, startling him enough to shut up.

“I’m gonna take care of it,” Iwaizumi says, sternly.

Oikawa looks unconvinced, but he gets distracted as Kindaichi pushes his way through, passing the plunger like a baton from his shaky out of breath hands. Iwaizumi nods to the young teen, and then turns to the door. He takes a deep breath and then opens it.

Water floods out of the bathroom, pooling around his ankles, his teammates shrieking behind him hysterically. He thinks, if only Oikawa hadn’t made such a big deal of all this, none of this would have happened.

But he also thinks thats unfair of him.

Oikawa deserves to celebrate his happiness. He deserves to be happy.

Iwaizumi squares up and goes in.

The rest of the team crowd around the doorway, watching the ongoing battle with a crescendo of awe and disgust. Oikawa looks like he might faint at any moment.

(Elsewhere in the house, Matsukawa and Hanamaki are also screaming, but for much less disgusting reasons. Their favorite wrestler has just thrown a chair on his opponent and is now strutting, leading the crowd in singing the Hunter x Hunter theme song.)

Finally, Iwaizumi returns victorious, and the team lets out a guffaw of cheers. Oikawa lets out a relieved sigh, and Iwaizumi barks at Kyoutani to start mopping up. And it seems like the night has been saved.

Until Oikawa realizes, “The show!” he screeches, shoving past his teammates roughly to race to the living room. He stares incomprehensible at the screen, oily men jumping from ropes atop one another, “Where’s the show!?”

Hanamaki fumbles, quickly switching the channel back just in time to see the credits start to roll through a brilliant starscape.

Oikawa stares at the names scrolling down his screen. His hands drop to his sides numbly. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t erupt. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t even look at anyone. He just turns away and climbs up his stairs, disappearing above them.

The team swallows awkwardly--well all except for Kyoutani, blissfully unaware and working hard to mop up his embarrassment on the other side of the house and salvage some bit of his dignity.

“Is he okay, Iwaizumi-senpai?” Watari asks, breaking the awkward silence.

Iwaizumi takes a deep, _deep_ breath, can feel his own molten lava sizzling in the pits of his stomach, ready to fire out at the gathering of idiots around him.

“Of course he’s not,” Iwaizumi retorts, and he winces, because that came off harsher than he was hoping. But he can’t help it. He’s pissed, “He’s been looking forward to this for eight months.”

“Iwai--“

“You, shut your mouth,” Iwaizumi roars, pointing a finger at Hanamaki, “Why the _fuck_ did you change the channel after I told you to stop? You could have told us the show had come on! He could have at least watched it then!”

“Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa cuts in, “It’s ok.”

“You think that low of the two of us?” Hanamaki adds with a frown.

Matsukawa starts playing with the remote, hitting buttons until _Space Journey_ flashes on the screen. Iwaizumi blinks. Matsukawa quickly pauses the video, less he spoil anything, “We recorded the whole thing on the background. Figured Oikawa would want to watch it with everyone, not just by himself, or else he wouldn’t have invited us all.”

“You’re not the only one who loves our captain, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki adds with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, maybe the only one that loves him enough to wear matching aprons,” Matsukawa corrects with a thinly veiled snicker.

Iwaizumi ignores the comment, “You recorded it?” he repeats, dumbfounded, “But you were watching wrestling?”

“It’s 2018, Iwaizumi. You can record stuff while watching other shows.” Hanamaki snorts.

“Now go fetch, captain. We’ll clean everything back up and be ready to play when you come back down,” Matsukawa continues, standing up from the couch for the first time that night, “You hear that boys? Get movin’”

Iwaizumi blinks at the sudden flurry of activity around him. Watari races off to help Kyoutani with the bathroom. Yahaba leaves to start bringing the finished cookies in from the kitchen. Kindaichi helps reorganize the pillows and blankets and set the coffee table back on its feet. 

He leaves them in his fellow third years apparently capable hands and climbs up the stairs, but not before grabbing two cookies from the pile. He walks down the familiar hall until he reaches Oikawa’s bedroom and knocks.

There’s no answer.

He cracks the door open and peers inside. Oikawa lies, on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He hadn’t bothered turning on the lights, so Iwaizumi flicks them on. It makes Oikawa squint on ihs bed, but other than that, he’s ignored. He’s changed his bottom soaked pants, which reminds Iwaizumi he should do the same.

He strips off his own pants, digging through Oikawa’s drawers from his largest pair and puts them on, rolling up the pant legs so he doesn’t trip. Once he’s done, he turns to the lump on the bed.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says softly, sitting on one of the bed corners.

Oikawa curls onto his side so his back faces Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi sighs and lies down beside him, facing the ceiling, but letting his side brush up against Oikawa’s curled back.

“I brought you something,” Iwaizumi says.

This perks Oikawa’s interest, who turns his head a little to look over. Iwaizumi offers him a UFO cookie. Oikawa’s eyes widen, taking the offering with a reverential hold, sitting up to look at it more clearly. Its a flat circle cookie, with a bump in the middle, painted to look like a blue UFO complete with a bubble cockpit.

“The middle is filled with melted chocolate,” Iwaizumi explains.

Oikawa stares at him, “You made these for me?”

“Of course I did,” Iwaizumi shrugs off, like it’s nothing. Like he hadn’t spent hours on Pinterest looking for the coolest design, or practiced at home to make sure he could do it right, or locked himself in the kitchen most of the evening to make them as perfectly as possible. Because it _wasn’t_ hard, knowing it would all be worth it.

Oikawa’s mouth wobbles and then his arms wrap around Iwaizumi’s neck to pepper his face with sloppy grateful kisses. Iwaizumi half heartedly tries to push him away, a laugh bubbling through his throat. The brunet slips further down kissing along Iwaizumi’s jaw line, smile stretching his lips, making it so his mouth merely ghosts the skin, “If only we could have eaten these properly.”

“Who says we can’t?” Iwaizumi counters, grin eating up half his face as he sits up.

Oikawa blinks at him, tiltng his head suspiciously, “...What are you saying?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer, simply takes the other’s hand and leads him back down the steps. There, Oikawa finds his team sitting around his living room chatting quietly, a tray of decorated cookies resting on his coffee table. There’s a space right in the middle for two, and Iwaizumi nudges him to sit down on the cushion, following after him and pulling a blanket up to cover their laps.

The television screen shows the title card for _Space Journey_ , and Oikawa feels giddyness bubbling in his heart.

“ _How?_ ” he asks aloud, but no one bothers to answer him.

Instead, Hanamaki ruffles his hair from above him on the couch. Oikawa swats away his hand away goodnaturedly. Matsukawa rubs his shoulder affectionately and Iwaizumi gives his knee a nudge with his own.

“You ready, captain?” Matsukawa asks, hand on the remote.

Oikawa can’t say anything he’s too excited, bouncing in his seat, teeth peaking out from his grinning lips. So Iwaizumi responds for him, “Just hurry up and get this damn thing over with.”

Matsukawa presses play.

They don’t get through two minutes of the episode before they’re forced to pause it.

Oikawa lets out an annoyed groan as the doorbell rings, forcing himself up to get to the door, doing his best not step on any limbs. He wonders who the hell could be interrupting him at this hour.

But behind the door is none other than Kunimi, giving a lazy wave, “Hey, sorry I’m late. Did I miss it?”

From behind they can hear Kindaichi let out a sudden, “Fucking finally!” that has him clamming up in self-shock at his own outburst. He’s never cursed in front of his senpais. It’s enough to make the entire team around him start laughing.

The commotion startles Kunimi as he blinks up at Oikawa who covers his mouth with his hands, shoulders twitching as he tries to decide whether to laugh or cry.

He settles for this, “You’re just in time.”

**Author's Note:**

> happy iwaoi day!!!!
> 
> here's a silly little oneshot ive had saved as an outline for like over a year. its nice to finally finish it. i hope you had as much fun reading as i had writing this mess.
> 
> until next time


End file.
